by Brian McCloskey
What the ocean wants, it takes. They enter and exit through mirrors of blood. Who doesn't love a good octopus? What a fun way to punch up my constant rotation of dresses and tights. As if we're gathering stones in our skirts. I may begin to fold myself. I do not know the names of things. We meet a priest who pulls a rope. I put on some fun tights and a cute dress just to sit in my office upstairs. Causing it to slowly creep up the front of my legs, and eventually bulge out at the crotch. Jesus wasn't a snowman. I need to start thinking outside the hue families. I am a girl and I do not mind. I have to say, it looked like one hell of a kiss. Does change the polymer chain and make them more durable. One more excuse to throw on a pair before summer. To be able to stroke the softness of them is a sensual experience as well as an erotic one. Crushed stones as bright as heaven's salt. I love these tights and woke up this morning and decided to be silly. Does it only work on white stockings or it is more effective with other colours? I came to dance with the Puerto Rican women. I love brides in tights!!! Don't ask why the print reminds me of a teacher. The dead splintered like ghosts. The earth being broken, or the sound we make. Yet their pale iridescence pleases me. To sniff those tights after practice. I twisted and manipulated silk in the same way I would with dumplings. Presumes to be a clementine. Can be squeezed for something far more nourishing.